Email
PrintOn Memory’s Wings
An enduring mission carries one pilot from war to wilderness
Photo by David J Swift
Stearns is building his own plane, a two-person amphibious craft called a Sea Hawker, from a kit.
(page 1 of 2)
A main street mainstay, Hungry Jack’s General Store in Wilson casually hosts a daily stream of busy locals and curious visitors. They navigate the labyrinth of aisles in search of anything from their favorite flavor of Clif Bar to a new pair of mustard-colored Carhartts. In contrast, the honey-colored wood shed next door has its windows covered, one with blue plastic tarp, another with cream foam. From the outside, it appears to be a dormant workshop. It’s far from forgotten, however, and inside, as summer wanes into fall and winter, a man tinkers on an airplane.
Longtime local Clarence Stearns, to be exact. The founder and [former] owner of Hungry Jack’s and builder of Wilson’s post office has gray hairy-caterpillar eyebrows that could have been plucked from his wavy hair. When he talks, his voice rolls along slowly and amiably. His speech is eloquent, without arrogance. And never once does he look up at the black numbers on the silver clock, a circular-saw blade. He won’t be in a hurry; he is a man content to tinker with certain pieces of his past that will be part of his future, and he is generous with his time.
He has never been fond of his name, the Clarence part. So when he had an opportunity to alter it, he took it. In the military, nicknames are as real as birth names. Stearns’ first initial soon became confused with the letter’s call name, Charlie, and thus it was Charlie Stearns who moved through the military ranks, transferring to the Air Cadets three days before the Pearl Harbor escalation. The United States needed skilled pilots badly.
“If you were a smart one, you became a navigator, and if you had dexterity, you became a pilot,” the man now commonly known as “Stearney” says. “If you thought then acted, you became a bombardier, or if you acted then thought, you became a pilot.” He gazes up at a dated snapshot of an Air Force crew gathered before a mission. Suspended below the photo is a foot-long model of a “Flying Fortress,” the B-17 bombers used in World War II. Pointing to one of the guys in the photograph, an adolescent who was consistently busted for drinking, Stearney declares, “I considered him the most worthless guy on the crew.” He pauses and smiles with pride. “And he saved our lives twice.”
A love of airplanes, flight, and piloting supersedes Stearney’s wartime aero-nautical involvement. When he talks, his emphasis lands on the present day, and he saves history for last. He’s building his own airplane, a two-person amphibious craft called a Sea Hawker, in the workshop. Flipping through a stuffed notebook, he pulls out some sheets of modifications and turns toward the fiberglass cockpit, nose, hull, and wings.
Strangely, the plane doesn’t look misplaced, even though the front wall will have to be knocked down before the aircraft can be rolled out. Crouching,
Stearney directs attention to foam underneath the hull. He explains that he bought the Sea Hawker as a kit, but the mass of Kevlar and epoxy, glass, and fiberglass doesn’t fit together like Lincoln Logs. The Sea Hawker’s engineers were unable to compromise to solve functionality problems in the original design. Therefore those who bought the kit have to request modifications, revisions, and adaptations predicted to take close to 3,000 hours. Determined, Stearney committed himself to the project.
